


poltergeist activity

by meios



Series: ave satanas! [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Lowercase, M/M, Teasing, demon!jun, witch!minghao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 01:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meios/pseuds/meios
Summary: minghao works in a magic shop, brewing potions and recommending spells to lovesick mundanes. he usually enjoys it, until junhui follows him there.





	poltergeist activity

**Author's Note:**

> love me

it’s the sixth time in the last hour that a book has fallen off the shelf.

 

it’s not even any of the good books, which doesn’t make it any better or worse, but minghao would admit to finding it rather curious were it not for his increasing backache from all the bending over. the bundle of herbs he’s carrying begin to fall away as well, and he curses under his breath as he simply sighs and allows everything to careen towards the ground once and for all.

 

“now that’s not professional,” says junhui, materializing right over minghao’s shoulder, a sudden warmth and a new pressure of slight weight on him. he glances back, twists a nerve in his neck, and as he fights through angry, pained tears, he reaches out to do something, anything really to the demon. his hand phases through a translucent image and minghao swears again, louder this time. “fighting the air now? what’ll your co-workers say, dear?”

 

“ _nothing_ because they _won’t see it_ ,” he hisses, a finality to it, squatting down and gathering the herbs again, balancing the book at the bottom of the pile. he doesn’t allow a retort, closes himself away from the demon as if a banishing of sorts, though junhui is never gone for long. the table upon which he lays them is large, rectangular, taking up most of the stock room floor, and as he picks up the mortar and pestle, minghao breathes out a cool wisp of air, a firm sort of grounding, allowing his limbs to go gelatin, his mind to go blank.

 

working with autonomy lends itself easily to the witch, measuring and mixing until the powder goes a bright green. it exudes something powerful, distinctly lemongrass in scent, as he empties the bowl into a jar. junhui only watches, having reappeared with a flourish; he is oddly silent, as if hypnotized by the determination minghao is exhibiting at shutting him out. like an art, truly. and he’s vaguely, as if in another body, another dimension, aware of junhui holding his chin in his hand, nothing but a dark mist otherwise, misshapen and less focused.

 

minghao is murmuring under his breath as he stirs his concoction, a cauldron before him now, a flame burning low and deep red beneath it. he deposits the powder of herbs as slowly as possible, switching to a counterclockwise motion, decisive and waiting for the color—there, a harsh violet and then indigo, and it’s only here where he stops the stirring, plucks the petals from wildflowers, and drops them in.

 

the atmosphere shifts throughout the stock room, instantaneous and heady; minghao extinguishes the fire with a flick of the wrist, sorting out mason jars in a few rows. he wields a ladle like a master, measuring with the naked eye and filling the jar. he spares a glance over to junhui, now nothing more than a storm cloud. “you’re still here,” he observes.

 

“i don’t plan on leaving,” replies junhui. there’s a quiet to him while he reacquaints himself with his corporeal form, staring unblinkingly at the witch, somewhat of a glow surrounding him like an aura.

 

a pause follows, pregnant and tense.

 

“what is it?” minghao asks without much bite.

 

“you’re fascinating.”

 

minghao’s face colors a bit in surprise before quickly steeling his expression, ducking back down to his work. “is that not why you interrupted my summoning?” he mutters.

 

“no,” says the demon, now from right behind him. minghao swings around, ladle held aloft like a weapon; his magic cracks as a whip from underneath his flesh, fermenting into something possibly ugly before he can swallow it back down again like bile. “no, i did that because my colleague was indisposed.”

 

minghao shoos him away only for another book to immediately fall off the shelf. “i’m going to murder you, demon,” he says, the wind knocked from him, words punched out like a bruise.

 

junhui laughs, levitates the book right as minghao bends to pick it up, and leans into his space. “darling, i’d love to see you try.”


End file.
